


Disorientation

by TianaTeaticket



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Amnesia, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memory Loss, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-15 06:00:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2218452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TianaTeaticket/pseuds/TianaTeaticket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After John suffers a head injury he awakens in the hospital to a worried Sherlock. Also to Lestrade and Donovan, who unintentionally cause John to believe they're in a relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disorientation

Lestrade had known it would be painful to get a statement out of Sherlock this time, that’s why he brought Sally along to the hospital. Looking back it wasn’t the best idea ever. They knew John had gotten hurt on the case, some sort of head injury, but nothing fatal. Dimmock was around when it happened and tried to fill them in as best he could, grateful that Lestrade had offered to deal with Sherlock. 

John’s room was spacious for a hospital, whether that was because of the severity of his injuries or Mycroft’s interference was up for grabs, and when they arrived he was lying unconscious on a cot. There were bandages wrapped around his head, the white contrasting oddly with his skin, and an IV attached to his arm. Neither of them were looking at John, though, but at Sherlock who was sitting with arms wrapped around his legs in a chair pulled up as close to the bed as possible. He was staring at John, seemingly watching the rise and fall of his chest.

Lestrade felt as if he was intruding and knocked on the door even though he’d already entered and Sally stood behind him. 

“What?” Sherlock snarled, not looking up.

Lestrade cleared his throat. “Just came for your statement is all. And to make sure John is alright of course.”

“No he isn’t alright” He retorted in an imperious tone. “He’s attached to machines and drugged up beyond meaning of the word and still isn’t awake yet!” Sherlock was shouting by the end of the sentence and like a self fulfilling prophecy John began to twitch on the cot. Sherlock unfolded his legs and placed his hands on the sheets right next to him.

“John?”

A weak groan came in response, and his legs were moving a bit. Sherlock looked enraptured. Lestrade cursed his timing and wished for an excuse to make a swift exit and leave them to their hospital reunion, but Sally stepped into the room even further and was leaning against the wall. John’s eyes flickered open and Sherlock was directly in his line of sight. He furrowed his eyebrows and looked even more confused than one would expect.

“Where am I?” he asked, the words long and languid. It might have been endearing if the situation was different. 

“The hospital. You’ve suffered a head injury but will be okay. I’m making sure of that.”

“And who are you?” This time when Sherlock opened his mouth to answer, not at all surprised by John’s memory loss, he was interrupted.

“What, don’t recognize your boyfriend?” Sally sneered, but the sarcasm was obviously lost on John because the second those words were uttered his eyes widened considerably. It was almost comic, but Sherlock didn’t laugh. He also didn’t correct her, opting just to glare icily in her direction before giving John his full attention again.

“We’re dating?” John slurred, drawing out every syllable. “That’s absolutely brilliant. Definitely makes up for the head…” his sentence trailed off and he seemed to ponder the words for a few seconds before looking back at Sherlock “thingy. It hurts.” He was grinning regardless of his words.

Sherlock’s eyes hadn’t left John the entire time and his expression was stonelike. Lestrade would have laughed at how infantile the army doctor was sounding if he wasn’t fearful of what Sherlock’s reaction would be. 

“I expect it would,” came his voice, sounding like the calm after a thunderstorm, “but they claim to be fixing it now, although judging by the endless lethargy of the doctors here it could take a while.” Spite and impatience were laced in his tone.

“Don’t be like that sweetie” John drawled out as Sally choked from where she stood by the door. “You know, I used to be a doctor. An army one. Still might be, actually. You though,” he pointed at Sherlock the best he could with his arm still connected to an IV “you are not a doctor. I can tell.”

“Brilliant deduction, as always.” Sherlock said, maybe in an attempt to shut John up. He didn’t seem to get the hint, though, because the drug induced monologue continued.

“No, you’re a model aren’t you. Isn’t that great? I’m dating a freaking model!” 

Now Lestrade really did laugh, and Sherlock finally raised his head to scowl at the man. “Don’t you dare bring this up later. I doubt your supply of IDs and handcuffs is limitless and I could always use more.”

“Hey, you should be grateful I’m not filming this” Lestrade responded cheekily. 

Sally sighed and began to tap her foot impatiently. “Look, freak, as entertaining as this is proving to be I’d like to go home soon. Care to give us that statement?”

John’s cheerful demeanour fell at her words and he tilted his head towards where her voice was coming from, one hand still held out towards Sherlock. “Freak? That’s not alright. I wouldn’t let someone talk about my boyfriend like that. He doesn’t seem like a freak. Look at those cheekbones.” He turned back to Sherlock and waved wildly with his arm as if to point out his facial structure.

“Stop that John, you’ll tear out the needle.” Sherlock grabbed his hand to prevent the flailing, but John giggled at the contact then refused to let go. He simply laid their hands together next to him on the cot.

“Everything’s heavy. I need to sleep.” The grogginess hadn’t left his voice during the short conversation, but it was even more apparent in this sentence than at the start. Sherlock squeezed his hand.

“Then do so.” He responded is a placating tone.

“And you’ll be here when I wake up?” John asked with eyes already closed.

“Of course.”

And with that John fell back into the deep sleep of the drugged up and hurt. Sherlock’s gaze lingered over his relaxed form before he looked up at the officers, all traces of tenderness suddenly vanished. 

“I do hope you have the capacity to hold a pen and take my statement, Sally” he said, and there was almost a bit of a dare in his voice. They did their job allowing Sherlock to stay at the side of the cot the whole time, and if his hand never left John’s there’s no need to mention such a thing.


End file.
